RWBY: Smoke and Mirrors
by Shadowtrack
Summary: "You cloud the visions of those that pave the way to the future. By this reason alone, I will take your life."
1. Smoke and Mirrors: Prolouge

The rain falls hard on Vale's alleyways and ghettos; their musty smell of rotting construction intrudes into the nostrils of its citizens. The rat-a-tat of an after storm drizzle and buzzing of shotty neon signs are the only gloomy ambient allowed to drift in the airwaves. The hours of the day left are sparse, and soon the midnight rain will obscure anything left in the streets. Two well-dressed young men walked down the grimy sidewalk, the shorter carrying a battle-worn umbrella over their heads. The other was flipping a watch open and closed; its chain jangles around, clinking methodically as the duo take their steps into the foggy atmosphere that constricts them. Their footsteps tentatively splash in shallow puddles from the downpour. The tallest shuts his watch, and twirls it around on its chain, faster than any other hypnotist would dream of. He smirks and comments,

"I'm tellin' ya Johnnie boy," his accent giving a distinct menacing sense of class. "This night would be a good time to hit the town. These yuppies will never know what hit 'em."

"Ah, give over Robbie!" The shorter one retorts, "These folks are fine people. Sides, we made enough money from our last gig to make it a whole 3 months livin' pretty. Let's not make the misère today, huh? I just want to go about being a goody-two shoes rodee'."

"Don't get frousey Johnnie, was just asking is all. You know I can be a rattle chops."

"Bull! You have a plan and you know it! That brain of yours is always thinkin' of the mischievous. What would your ma say?"

"She'd say 'if you don't pay the bills, you be sittin' in the chills. Now go out there and get that money!'"

Robbie puffs up his cheeks and wags his finger with the sternness of a 60-year-old woman in Johnnie's face. In response, Johnnie shifts the umbrella to allow Robbie's clothes to drench from the rain. Robbie shivers and frantically tries to cover his head.

"Aye! Put that umbrella of yours back over my skull or I'll scuft ya upside the head!"

"For sure, for sure. But if ya need some money that bad, you could always be a knobstick." Johnnie jests.

"That seems more like your expertise, not mine Johnnie boy."

They halt their march in the middle of the sidewalk; chilled rosy faces stare down each other and eyes darting around, sizing up their opponent. In unison, they yell,

"NAAAAH!"

The two laugh and slap each other on the backs, making their way down to the docks of Vale. Small trickles of water flow with them on the street, stopping only to swirl down into various grated and rusted manholes. Robbie twirls his pocket-watch again while Johnnie lights a cigarette with his free hand, puffing a diffuse stream of smoke into the late dusk. They stroll down a walkway next to one of Vale's ship canals. Its water churning and its splashes against the barrier a requiem to the once free flowing power of nature. The duo silently take in the calmness of the scenery when a high-pitched wail shatters the serenity.

"Oi, Robbie, you hear that?" Johnnie askes, tensing up his muscles.

"Sure did. Sounds like a ghost gave his big toe a good stubbing."

"Well you wanted to 'hit the town'. I'm sure something over there needs a good hittin'."

"Over there?" Robbie says distressed. "That overpass looks like something out of a horror film!"

"Come on ya, capon. Where is that fearlessness you have in spades?'

"Who said I was fearless?"

"You, you fossicker!"

Another ear-splitting wail pierces the misty atmosphere. Hair-raising whimpers follow its reverberation.

'Oh…freaking fine. But you're buying me a drink after this." Robbie demands.

"Eh. We'll see."

Robbie steps quietly as he can, plipping softly atop the puddles in the cement trench that lies before him. The bridge above casts a veil of darkness underneath its support beams, creating an entrance into the shadow realm for those who dare enter. Robbie clutches his pocket-watch for a brief moment, and opens it up. He flips a switch inside and jagged blades pop out the frame of the watch. Its curved metal gleams with the condensation of the mist that envelops the walkway under the bridge. The whimper grows louder, and Robbie's grasp on his chain nearly breaks its links. His body crosses over the event horizon, and his breathing becomes rapid. His heartbeat thumps as if a spectre resides right outside its ribcage. The wails echo all around him, sending him into a panic.

"Oi, who's there!?" Robbie gasps out.

The wails stop, and only the dripping of rain remains. Robbie enters delirium, and he slashes his pocket-watch around his figure, chasing the maleficent blackness whose shape crushes his soul. A dull, foreboding green light plays off the walls of the underpass, and Robbie stares wide-eyed. Weapon drawn, Robbie inches his way towards the hazy light. Its glow ghosts in and out of existence with each step. Eyes finally adjusting to the incessant darkness, he comes within range of the glimmering light. His pocket-watch is in mid slash when he freezes, unable to move; what he sees before him baffles the mind. The glow resonates from tiny, bony arms. Their features malnourished and their fingers spindly as spider legs.

"How in this God-given world…. _Johnnie!_ You're gonna wanna look at this!" He calls to his partner.

"What is it?" Johnnie calls out to his distressed partner.

"….Its a baby girl." He quietly says back.

"My eye!" Johnnie retorts.

Johnnie rushes into the dark underpass and nearly tramples his partner, whose green-tinged face is the only thing visible. The light originates from the aura of a 2-year-old girl. She is cowering in the corner of the underpass in a fetal position, a small smelly bed of leaves and straw lies underneath her. Her left arm has intricate tattoos, whose light wisps around her skin. Ragged clothes hang limp on her body, and smoldering incense candles reflect the light around her face, its haze couples with the paranormal glow emanating from the child. Her eyes dart back and forth from Johnnie and Robbie. Robbie breaks the silence first.

"Youth, what should we do?" He rubs his arm and looks at Johnnie, whose eyes reflect the green light.

Johnnie looks at the child and stares at her starving figure. His eyes scan her shaking arms and dwindling legs. He makes eye contact with the girl for a brief moment, her neon green eyes pleading in the darkness. Johnnie lets out a deep sigh.

"We take her with us." He finally blurts out.

Robbie shakes his head, and a frustrated confusion swells in his brow.

"Uh…Could you say that again?"

"We. Are. Taking. Her. With. Us." Johnnie overemphasizes.

"Have you gone mad?! A child. along with _us_?"

"You're the one who's always wanted a dog."

"Dogs aren't freaking children, you swobsy fool!" Robbie retorts.

"Ahhh they aren't that different. All they do is eat, shit, whine, and sleep. I already deal with someone like that every day. What's one more?"

Robbie's trap shuts and he spins towards the girl, then back to Johnnie. He starts to pull his hair out and his eyes flare.

"What can? How….So we're just going to settle down and "play Madame" then, is that it? I think you are forgetting something; we're fugitives Johnnie! We can't simply get an average life by looking for it! You really want a girl like that to grow up with people like us? You got any experience raising kids? Cause I sure as sully don't!"

"Hold your noise! You'll frighten her. Put away Showstopper, would ya?"

"She's frightenin' me!" Though he is hesitant, Robbie withdraws the blades from his pocket watch and retracts the chain.

Johnnie gestures towards the child.

"Look at the peeshwank. You really think leaving her to die in this manner is better than our life on the run? Besides, who wants an average life anyways? Ours is entirely more exciting than any other shmuck. Why let those numbskulls raise a kid? We could do it a hundred-fold better."

"More like a hundred-fooled better." Robbie replies.

"See? Look at our creativity! We would be the best parents."

"Well we can't just up and grab her, she'd get all frousey!"

"And?"

"Uugghh…I hate all that you stand for."

"Atleast I stand for something."

"Bugger off."

Robbie digs around for something in his pocket. He finds a bag full of nuts, and pours some out into his left hand.

"Here little one, get some strength."

The girl shakes, unknowing what to do at first. However, her hunger triumphs and she swipes the nuts so fast any pickpocket would give her a round of applause. She mows them down, chewing feverishly and lets out a content sigh. She seems more relaxed now, loosening her grip around her knees, her face isn't nearly as frightened. Johnnie nods to Robbie, who quirks a brow. He sighs, claps the chain on his watch, and brings its tick-tocking bronze metal up in front of the child's face.

"Now sweetie, look directly to the watch, it will help ease the pain." Robbie sweetly whispers. His aura beginning to radiate a calming brown.

The girl's eyelids shoot open for a moment, before they slowly and surely cover her piercing green eyes. Her aura dies down, and the tattoos stop glowing.

"Okay Johnnie, I may be on your side, but I sure as shit won't be carrying the little troll. Speaking of, what should we even name her? Its not like she's my cousin once removed." Robbie quips.

Johnnie surveys the area, his face glancing over the burned out candles and leafy bed now illuminated by a flashlight he dug out from his pocket.

"How about-"

Robbie interrupts,

"Hold on just a minute there youth, where'd you get that flashlight from and why weren't you using it before?!"

"My pocket. Didn't want to blind the girl. Now once again, hold your noise!"

"Monstik." Robbie grumbles.

"Let's name her…..Tara Couver."

"Alright, not bad. Cool. Swell. Now can we get out of this frackin' underpass? Its giving me the willies."

Johnnie carefully picks up the limp body of the girl, holding her tightly against his chest. She sleeps soundly in his arms.

"Sure thing. It's been a long day."

"And how." Robbie nods.


	2. Let The Show Begin

The streets of Vale are barren at midnight, except for the sporadic cat hiss or mutant-sized rat scurrying past a trash can. The night was a-light with neon signs, each claiming their own spot on the famous New Vale Strip. Casinos and bars line the street with their flashing signs of seduction, coaxing weary night owls into their nest. Smooth Jazz played from a club named _The Sinatra Sauna_. Its neon sign buzzes into the night, depicting a microphone stand on stage in front of a steaming pool of water; the slight smell of ozone and steam greeting those who enter through its arched door.

The inside is lively; people made idle chatter at the coffee tables in red velvet dugouts. Men at the bar act as if they are in a revolving door. As soon as one leaves denied by a seductress, another immediately takes his place. Low hanging lanterns drip from the ceiling, dimly illuminating the fries and empty martini glasses left from zealous visitors. The waiters zip from one table to the next, supplying the customs with an endless supply of alcohol as long as their wallets could keep up. Cigarette smoke filled the air to a near suffocating level for the uninitiated, its bitter stinging texture a rite of passage to earn one's way into this less than holy sanctum. The smoke wisps off the grimy walls, its corrupted clouds transforming into dragons, pandas, and other fantastical creatures. A band plays smooth jazz off in one of the corners of the room, keeping a calm ambient to the laidback feel of the club. A constant _tiss-tat-tiss_ comes from the symbols of the drums, and a low thumping resonates from the base player. Red satin curtains shelter a performing stage from the gritty atmosphere, keeping the stage clean and tidy.

Behind the stage in a darkened waiting room, Johnnie and Robbie adjust their ties with gusto. Johnnie finds the perfect placement of his accessory and then starts to adjust his cufflinks on his deep red satin suit.

"Alright Robbie, lets put on a show these susies won't soon forget."

Robbie looks up from his notepad, rehearsing the plan and smirks,

"Sounds like my last night."

"AH-BUP-BUP." Johniee shuts his hand in Robbie's face, mouth straightening. "I want to hear none of that, I'd like to remain the innocent youth that I am."

Robbie chuckles, "A decade too late on both of those, mate. Your one of the sleaziest people I know." Robbie pulls Johnnie's top hat over his eyes, ruffling his hair and temperament.

"Sleazy ain't all that bad, is it?" Johnnie askes, lifting off his hat and redistributing his midnight hair back into place.

"Eh, could be worse." Robbie jests, tossing a microphone into the air.

An announcer's call reverberates through the chill ether.

"Now, please welcome your headliners for tonight, the Devilish Duo themselves, Johnnie Crawfie and Robbie Poterié!"

Light applause rings true from the darkened pits of lounge furniture.

"Its about that time…" Robbie says, soothing an itch on the back his head.

"You scared?" Johnnie asks.

"Tremblin' in my britches…" Robbie rolls his eyes and steps forward.

His timing always impeccable, Robbie separates the rippling sea of satin as Moses, extending his arms and flamboyantly takes center stage. Johnnie follows close behind him, hat dipped low and right hand in pocket, keeping a cool and mysterious presence on stage. Robbie is the first to speak,

"Good evening gents and gals of _The Sinatra Sauna_! It's a pleasure to be highlighting the night on our first showing! Ain't that right Johnnie boy?" He nudges Johnnie, who now stands aloof besides him.

Johnnie removes his hat and takes a shallow bow.

His voice changes tone from his usual high-strung and spirited octaves to a deep and sultry nature.

"Absolutely thrilled, as you all soon will be."

Johnnie digs out of his pocket a deck of playing cards and begins to shuffle them along. His hands move as quick as lightning and the cards seem to blink in and out of existence, slaves to Johnnie's charm.

"For this show we will need a volunteer." He coolly calls out into the crowd. "Anyone brave enough?"

The crowd seems skeptical; they look around to each other as lemmings. Puffs of smoke and coughs are the sole entities willing to rise to the call. Johnnie and Robbie sigh, and shift their weight on their feet.

"Anyone at all?" Robbie hesitantly asks, searching the room for someone.

One hand graces the hazy air with its mocha skin color.

'I guess I will then, sir." The voice rides on the air with elegance and power.

"Perfect! Come on up here little lady!" Robbie responds; mouth a little too close to the microphone.

The girl straightens up and leaves her table unattended except for the three empty glasses on its hickory surface. Her high-heeled boots clack on the tile below her, attached bony strings swaying with each step. Her skirt is a swampy green and tattered on its ends, looking like the remains of a shredded flower. Her shirt is a jet-black sleeveless vest cutting off at the shoulders. Her arms are embroiled with tattoos, the same shade of green as her skirt and eyes. Her hair drapes over her face, obscuring her vision and making it impossible to have direct eye-to-eye contact. Braids flow from her head down past her shoulders. Finally, a fedora with a green band and mini-cartoon skull rests on her head.

She walks up on stage, and Johnnie takes her hand, escorting her into the spotlight.

Robbie showily asks, "And who are you, Missy?"

"My name is Tara Couver." The girl projects to the crowd.

"Brilliant! Now, have you known us before this very day?"

"Not in the slightest, Vieux." She gives a slight smile and Robbie's eye twitches.

"Hey scratch-cat, now I might not be a youther like yourself, but I still got a bunch of jazz left in me. So does my partner over there!"

Johnnie halts his statuesque posture to give a tip of his hat to Tara, and shadowed wink quickly follows.

"See him over there? He is a master of the dark arts! Don't be scared though, he isn't likely to cast a curse on ya. Even Doctors need to earn the cash. Just don't get on his bad side, or he might send the evil spirits after ya!" Robbie hunches over and brings his arm over his face, wriggling his eyebrows like some wannabe Dracula.

Tara feigns fright and hesitantly asks, "What are you going to do?"

"What any good performer would do! Amaze and entertain! No need to worry unless you are an wicked girl. You've got that covered, right?" Robbie shrewdly asks.

Tara shrugs her shoulders and responds,

"Guess we will find out, huh?"

"Right you are! And to start things off, a simple card trick is a staple to any good magician's diet. Johnnie, show them what you can do!"

Johnnie nods to his partner, and tosses his deck of cards up into the air. They flutter about as snowflakes, drifting lazily to the ground, seemingly slowed down by some magical vicious fluid. Johnnie extends his arm and quickly swipes his hand in front of all the cards, making them vanish in plain sight. The crowd _oohs_ , and Johnnie looks around for the cards. He scratches his head and shrugs. He visually thinks for a moment, and then an idea strikes him. Johnnie opens the cards' metal case and splays out all the cards in front of the audience. They give a light applause in return.

Johnnie takes a slow bow, and then turns to Tara, fanning out all the cards in one hand. He enigmatically asks,

"Now then, Tara. Choose one card, any card. I will guess the one you choose and I promise you, I will be right. But just to make things interesting, if I get the card wrong, you will be paid in full all the money we would earn tonight."

Robbie shows hints of distress, but follows suit.

"You heard it folks, our _entire_ pay is on the line here! Watch as Johnnie picks the right card, or our bodies waste away from a lack of nutrition!"

Tara rubs her chin, and her hand hovers over the cards. She gets some spark of inspiration and swipes one from his hand. Johnnie smiles, and collapses the deck. He places Tara's card at the bottom and shows it to the crowd. He shuffles the deck at lightning speed and stops abruptly as he starts. He gestures coolly to Tara.

"If you would, pick the top card from the deck and announce to the audience that the one chosen is in fact the one you originally picked."

Tara gives a sly look, but picks up the first card nonetheless. She winces one eye closed and reveals the card's suit.

"This….isn't my card." Tara says bluntly.

Johnnie is shocked and Robbie's face turns pale as a ghost.

"Sorry sweetie, what was that?" Robbie dreadfully inquires.

"This isn't my card. This is the three of hearts; I had the queen of spades." She replies, a smirk pulling at her cheeks.

Robbie nearly faints, and the crowd chuckles, gossiping amongst themselves. Some give a slow clap to salt the wound.

Johnnie looks perplexed, but then quips, "One moment please."

He shuffles the deck again, faster. Faster _._ _Even faster._ His hands are a blur, and the cards look like wraith blades. They lose all of their sense of placement, but the corners remain tangible and each seem sharper than any scalpel. The shuffling slows and stops, and Johnnie holds out the fanned deck just as he originally did.

"Pick any card. One more time."

Tara scoffs, and immediately picks one from the peacock tail of cardboard. She flips the card over, and to her shock, it was the queen of spades. She shows the card to the audience, and the murmurs stop.

"Now," Johnnie says, raising his voice, "Pick another card."

Tara scrunches her face, and crosses her arms.

"Why do you want me to do that?"

"I felt so bad that I missed your card that I need to make it up to you right now. 52 times over." Johnnie remarks.

Tara swiftly grabs a card from Johnnie's hand. To her and the crowd's astonishment, it's the queen of spades. She picks another, and then another. Every single one is the queen of spades. The crowd breaks out in applause, and Tara is left dumbfounded.

Behind them, Robbie lets out a sigh of relief and avoids a heart attack.

"Look at that folks! What a brilliant display of mysticism!" An angry smile forms on his face, sneering at Johnnie. Johnnie merely winks back at him and brushes some non-existent dust off his shoulder, as if to say _What, you actually doubted me?_ He smiles and turns his attention back to Tara.

"Take these as a token of my appreciation." He hands Tara the deck of the single suit, and out of some magical pocket, pulls another deck from his pants. Tara looks them over. Lined with a snake's body, the backs of the cards have a red tinge. She smiles and places the deck in a pocket just above her chest, zipping it shut.

"Alright Johnnie, time to get spooky!" Robbie declares to him partner.

He nods, and takes out a puffy doll. Its appendages are bulbous and smooth to the touch. Stiches of thread weave together the pieces of the doll and stalks of straw stick out of the small holes left unsowed. Its eyes are black buttons and its mouth is a cross-hatching of stiches.

"Watch, as the Hodoun manipulates this girl's senses by having just a lock of hair!" Robbie gets a chair from the back for Tara to sit on, who gleefully plops down on the seat.

"Just need a couple strands from the back of your head, Peeshawnk." Johnnie says.

"If you mess it up or make me act like a fool, I'm still taking the pay." Tara seethes out her gritted smile.

'Fair enough."

Johnnie grabs a small scissors, cuts away a lock of swampy green hair from Tara's head, and pins it onto the doll. Placing the doll in a seated position, he waves his hands around the doll and his aura begins to glow. Tara's body suddenly becomes rigid, and her eyes shoot wide-open, contrast to her normal dull and uninterested look.

"Now, see this scratch-cat of a woman act as giddily as a schoolgirl!" Robbie's face beams of the mischievous, and Johnnie begins poking the doll with another pin.

"Ow!" Tara yelps out.

The audience hushes and all of their attention is completely fixated on the brightly lit stage illuminating the trio of Johnnie, Robbie, and Tara. Johnnie moves beyond Tara's vision and hold up the doll. He waves his hands in front of it once more to show there are no strings attached. Tara remains frozen and unflinching as Johnnie shows that the act is more than a mere trick. He brings the glinting pin underneath the doll's foot and gives it a small prick.

" _Ye-ow!_ " Tara cries out again.

"Okay Johnnie boy that's enough pain for one girly to handle. Let's kill her with kindness!"

Johnnie smiles brightly and puts the pin away. In its place, he pulls out a raven's feather. Its black fluff is soft and soothing to the touch. Johnnie knows all the pressure points he needs to. He begins to tickle the feet of the doll, which subsequently cause Tara to wriggle in her seat, laughing her head off.

Johnnie continues to tickle the doll on its armpits, legs, neck, and stomach. She giggles uncontrollably all the way through, and Tara's cheeks get a slight rosy red tinge to them. He stops at the nose when he sends Tara into a sneezing fit. Her _achoos_ made the crowd guffaw, but for the sake of getting any amount of the pay, he stops sooner than necessary. Taking the doll's arm in hand, he creates a friendly wave. After that, he finally gets the doll to stand on its legs and pushes its head down to take a bow. Tara follows suit, waves to the audience, bowing to them shortly thereafter. The crowd roars in applause, and Robbie claps for the two.

"You see that folks? That's why you don't mess with a Voodoo practitioner! You're likely to lose your mind from something out of your control!" Robbie warns.

Johnnie removes the lock of hair from the doll, tossing it aside onto the hardwood floor. Tara's body falls limp, but she quickly catches herself before tipping over like a drunken goat. She smiles, but one can easily tell by her flushed cheeks and the fire in her eyes that she is two to ten tiers above irritated. Robbie chokes back a laugh and Johnnie smiles under the shade of his hat.

"Now, I know what you are all thinkin'" Robbie blurts out into the microphone. "'I thought this was a two man show! Johnnie _and_ Robbie!' This Robbie person is useless except for creating the best intros this side of Sunday. Well worry no further lads and ladies, cause I have my own tricks up my sleeve."

On cue, he slides out his pocket-watch from inside his suit. The piece of bronze metal twirls slowly on the stage, reflecting beams of light like a lighthouse. Robbie's face peaks out from behind it, eyebrows raised.

"How many of you wondered what it's like to be hypnotized?" He playfully asks.

The people in the crowd turn towards one another and murmur amongst themselves in their dugout lounges.

"Ah, good. You're a right dandy crowd. Hold on to your minds and bodies, because what you are about to experience might just bowl you over!" Announcing with zest, Robbie starts to rock the watch as a pendulum. Its path glides back and forth in the air, gentle as a mother's touch on a baby's crib. All eyes are on the mesmerizing watch, the crowd's heads slowly bobbing to its rhythm. Clinks of its chain-links become a type of conditioning and overwhelm each person's auditory senses.

"When I snap my fingers, you are all under my control…" Robbie commands.

Clacking his middle finger and thumb together, an echoing _snap!_ causes the crowd to turn into statues, their minds ready to mold into anything Robbie desires.

"Okay, Tara do your thing." Robbie orders.

"Hmph." Is her only response.

Tara surveys the lingering cigar smoke that hangs in the lofts and around people's heads. Her outline glows a bright green and she waves her hand around as if she is a leader of a concerto. The smoke swirls and swells into shapes, which then turn into animals. Bears, unicorns, and cats roam around the ceiling tracking their way around a fixed path that Tara sets up. Their opaque figures are barely solid to the touch, and leave trails of their existence as gray contrails from an airplane. They seem to come straight from a dream; the animals shapes would sporadically fade away, but quickly thereafter revitalize into some new animal. Tara splays out her arms as she brings some down to the audience and has them roar and neigh in their face. Finally, she makes the bears and cats do a quick waltz together, their smoky figures sway to an unheard beat and their essence intermingles with its partner.

Tara's show dissipates away, her hands signals the finale and the animals puff into oblivion becoming the lifeless, toxic cigarette waste they used to be. A bead of sweat forms on her brow, and Tara's labored breathing hints at overexertion. Johnnie and Robbie have the proudest smile on their faces and remain stunned by what she did. Robbie nods to himself and decides to wrap this part of the show up.

"Alright kid, you can take your seat. You've done incredibly well tonight."

Tara flips a braid back over her shoulder,

"And you wanted to leave me under the bridge." She teasingly responds as she walks off stage back to her seat.

Robbie returns with a nervous chuckle, proceeding to end his mind control.

"So lovelies, I want you to forget that this girl was up here controlling those beautiful smoky animals, and that she had any part to do with this part of the show. However, I still want to know they existed; I want that bonus pay, you hear? Nod if you understand."

The crowd zombily nods in agreement.

"Good. Now when I snap my fingers again, you are free from my control."

Robbie sends the shockwave of the sound through the club, and his crowd returns to a conscious state. Some hold their heads for a moment, trying to understand what just happened. They take a couple seconds to return from the haze and start applauding once again for the dazzling mind games shown to them tonight.

"For our last act, Johnnie and I would like to stretch our vocal chords for a bit. One of our many talents is singing. Hit it!" He points to the band far off in the corner.

An up-tempo jazz song starts to play and Robbie tosses a second microphone to Johnnie.

The duo fools around for a few moments before actually starting the song. Their voices impact low and their demeanor hits one of an old mafia movie.

Tara watches the two living it up on stage, reclining back in her chair and taking a sip of some non-alcoholic beverage. She sighs, and closes her eyes to become lost in the music, letting the dim light sooth her heavy eyelids.

A few tranquil moments pass when the music breaks tempo by an up close and personal,

"Hey, how's it goin'?"

Tara opens her eyes and glares towards where the interruption came from.

"Oh God…." She groans out.

A man who had more than his fair share of drink sits across from her. His brown hair is messy, and he reeks of alcohol. His tie remains dangling around his neck like monkey from a tree. A very intoxicated tree. His words slur together as he speaks,

"I saw you up _*hic*_ on stage and thought you w…..were the prettiest thing since sliced bread." He tries to act suavely, resting his fuzzy head against his arm.

"Look here _saleau_ , I don't want to talk to you, and I don't want to see your beady eyes around me. Get outta my sight." Tara grunts back.

The man grits his teeth and becomes furious, grabbing for her clothes,

"Listen missy, I've been-" Tara uppercuts him straight in the jaw, sending him reeling back for a brief moment.

She takes out a curved, green, and black cigarette holder that resides on her back and extends it. An alligator skull rests menacingly on top of a two dark red burn crystals. Its smoke rises up out the nostrils of the skull, looking like the skull of an undead dragon. The smoke scorches the neck of the man it now resides under. His eyes dart wildly from the weapon to Tara.

"I didn't mean any trouble!" He pleads out.

"You try to come near me one more time, and I won't hesitate to burn off your vocal cords." She sneers at him pushing him away.

The man turns tail and runs away, clashing over another table and stumbling out the door. Tara puts her weapon away and eases back into her chair, letting the musical notes and voices dance inside her head. She starts to dream of saxophones and pianos, falling asleep to the soothing voices of Johnnie and Robbie, who were having the time of their life on stage.


End file.
